«Beauty, understood as perfection, should be flat, superficial. It can show no variation, no doubt about itself. Such beauty is cold as a mausoleum; its form is finished. It is contemplated. It is a mirror.

But then dirt is deep, which is the opposite of shallow. There is a thickness to it. Multiples facets. Multiple reasons piled up through its section. There is always some of that strangeness, unconscious, unintended. It carries within itself the means to efface it and to rebuild it.

The mistake in architecture is to think of sections as if they were elevations.»